Stars in the Night Twilight Tales
by SongsOfSpring
Summary: This is a series of one-shots. The first is about when Carlisle changes Edward in 1918 Chicago. I like it; hope you do too! Also, check out my story about Paul, titled, "Fight Me! I Dare You!" It's action-packed. As always, R&R!
1. Savior?

**How's life? I had this sitting around on my computer, so I thought I'd publish it since you all reacted well to my Paul story. I'm so glad you liked it! Hope you like this one too! It's my interpretation of the day Carlisle changed Edward into a vampire. Happy reading!**

**~ Kat ~**

Disclaimer: I forgot to do this in my other story, but for all my Twlight stories, the book and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Not me (unfortunately)!

**Savior?**

"_Sometimes it is not enough to do our best; we must do what is required." - Sir Winston Churchill_

I paced back and forth across the room. The mahogany-paneled walls felt as though they were closing in on me, pressing the very air from my lungs. Curse my wretched existence! I could have been in the hospital, saving those for whom I was the only hope. Instead, I was stuck here. Keeping up a pretense, that's all it was! But I knew Vivian, the nurse, would notice if I hadn't gone home to sleep for three full days. I couldn't risk it.

And so I waited, spinning around the room like a tornado. I thought of Gregory, the old man who was going to die, and leave behind a wife, two children, and four grandchildren. I thought of Stanley, who would never have a chance to finish his book. And I thought of Elizabeth Masen. She had given up her only chances of life trying to save her son. She _could_ have lived. But instead, she lay there, worrying about him, and killing herself.

All these innocent people, dying of Spanish influenza. Humans were such fragile creatures. Thousands died every day. Nowadays, it was more like ten thousand. And yet here I was, forever unchanging and never dying. More than two hundred fifty years, and I still looked the same twenty-three I had been that fateful day in 1667. All these good people, and I couldn't help them. I could only watch their lives pass by, and mourn each passing as if it was that of a brother or sister.

Enraged, I spun around and, collapsing onto my knees, pounded both fists onto the small glass coffee table. It shattered under my granite hands. The shards of glass flew everywhere, sparkling as they caught the dim light. It was so unfair! I grinded my teeth together in frustration. The most powerful being in the world and here I sat, helpless and unable to assist when I was needed most. I stared at the large clock, ticking so slowly I wanted to scream. It had been six hours since I'd left the hospital at noon. That _had_ to have been enough time. Maybe Vivian had gone home. She was a human after all, and she needed sleep.

That was it. I couldn't wait any longer. I dropped out the window from my second-story house, and ran down the dark back alleys with blinding speed, not particularly caring if anyone saw anything unusual. Most of them were inside anyways, trying to escape the killing temperatures.

I stopped behind the hospital, and entered, shrugging on my white coat as I rushed down the packed hallway to the desk. Just my luck, Vivian sat there, the summer heat soaking her flowered dress, which had been clean and neatly pressed at seven this morning.

"Doctor Cullen? Back so soon? The things you do for these people. With the amount of sleep you get, it's a miracle you don't get sick." Ah, Vivian, bless her and her naïveté. I had hardly kept up a pretense these last few weeks, and yet she still didn't see. I thanked her silently, and nodded with a small smile. Like every other human, her body reacted the same way to me. At my smile, her temperature rose a degree and her heart rate increased. She averted her eyes and bit her lip gently. Some things would never change.

"Any news since I left?" I asked.

"Mr. Stanley Little. He…he passed away at two this afternoon. It was quiet, in his sleep. There was nothing we could do," she said quietly.

I made a small cross on my chest, and said to both Vivian and someone else, "may he rest in peace, the poor man."

"Yes, indeed," Vivian said, seconding the motion. I was about to turn away when I heard rustling behind me. "Doctor Cullen? He…left this for you." It was a small rectangular package, wrapped haphazardly in brown paper. I accepted it and nodded to her, and then I walked briskly down the hallway, resisting the urge to sprint full-speed.

I entered a storage closet, and sat down on the wooden chair in the corner, placing the package in my lap. I carefully unraveled the paper, and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. Opening the first page, Stanley, in his neat script, had written "Mythical Tales of the Ancient World." If only he knew how relevant his stories actually were. Inside this page was a small note on a loose piece of paper, scrawled in the handwriting of a dying man. He had written:

I know I am dying. Finish the book for me, please, as I never will. I need a legacy. Carlisle, you have saved me. I thank you for everything, even as it is hopeless. Stay well, and save many more.

Your eternal friend, Stanley Little

If I had been physically able to cry, I would have. The dear man, he, like so many others, had never deserved to die. At that moment, my mind was then made up. I would honor his dying request, and I _would_ save many more. I opened the closet, the small leather book clutched tightly in my hand, and I wound my way through the crowded hospital down to Room 47.

I entered and closed the door behind me, muting the bustle of the halls. Inside were two small beds, each containing a thin, dying body. I walked over the farthest bed, covering the nearby window with a curtain, and gazed down at the boy lying there. His hair, dull from illness, had only the remnants of its once-shinning copper color. His bright green eyes flickered open and closed as he dreamt nightmares, and his body twitched. His whole face was sweating and I felt the heat as I touched his forehead. Upon my cool touch, his body stopped its spasms and he lay still, eased by the drop in temperature. I replaced my hand with a wet cloth, and walked over to the second bed.

Elizabeth Masen lay there quietly, the same bright green eyes staring at me as I moved slowly about the room.

"Doctor Cullen?" she asked, in a faint whisper, so silent a human would have had to strain to hear it.

"Yes?" I replied, walking to her bedside and sitting down on the chair next to it.

"I'm dying," she stated bluntly.

"No. You won't die. I will make sure of that," I insisted. She couldn't give up. Not now.

"Don't lie to me, Carlisle," she said quietly. "More importantly, don't lie to yourself. I'm dying and that's that. But my son, he will not die." She reached out and gripped my hand with a strength I wouldn't have imagined possible from the frail woman before me. Her hand was burning hot as it clutched mine.

"He mustn't die," she said viciously.

"Elizabeth, he's worse off that you. There is no hope, as much as I wish there was," I said, feeling defeat in my voice. I had done everything, and still I knew he would die of this wretched disease.

"No!" she growled to me. "He won't die." Using my hand, she pulled herself from the pillows to stare me in the eyes. I felt as though her stony green glare might burn right through me. "Save him!" she commanded, in a horse voice, all that the dying woman could muster up.

"I'll do everything in my power," I promised her, knowing that unfortunately, everything I could do had been done. They would both die.

"You must," she insisted, gripping my hand as hard as she could. "You must do everything in _your_ power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my son."

If I'd had a pulsing heart, it would have skipped a beat. For a moment, I was sure she knew my secret. The one I'd worked so hard to hide for centuries. She stared through me with her piercing glare, and then suddenly, it didn't matter if she knew. Her grip weakened, her flaming hand sliding from mine, and her eyes closed silently. I caught her before she hit the pillow, and laid her down gently upon it. Her heart faltered in its beat as she entered a coma. I knew she wouldn't come out.

I rose from the chair, and walked to the boy in his bed. He must have been only seventeen or eighteen. In any better circumstance, not knocking at death's door, he would have been a handsome boy. His face was good and kind. Elizabeth was lucky to have had this boy. His cheekbones, like his deceased father, were angled and gave him a determined look, even in sleep. Across from me, I heard Elizabeth's heartbeat. It stuttered twice, sped up, and then there was silence. She had gone. The boy twitched quietly in his sleep, at some passing dream, and I realized the truth of Elizabeth's words. He _couldn't _die. I wouldn't let him. But there was only one more way I could save him.

Before I could let myself change my mind, I took Elizabeth's empty shell down to the morgue. I couldn't bring myself to think of it as her. Her soul was gone, somewhere beautiful where she could be happy. This was just all that was left over. Next to her, I rolled her son. The hot, cramped hallways were too chaotic. No one even realized that the boy was still breathing laboriously as we rolled down the corridor.

I stopped the two beds in the morgue, and turned to the old Elizabeth. I leaned down, and gently kissed her goodbye on the forehead. I quickly unclasped the small golden locket from around her cold neck, and then fastened it around her son's. Glancing out the window of the morgue door, I saw no one. It was safe. Picking up his burning body in my cool arms, I walked out the back door into the dark night. I leapt up the three-story building to the roof, and carried the boy as I ran across the rooftops of Chicago.

I arrived at my house in minutes, and placed Elizabeth's son on the bed. At this moment, I remembered that I had no idea how to do this. When it had happened to me, it had been vicious and painful. I had lain for what felt like ages in the sewers, half-conscious and suppressing cries of agony the whole time.

But I could remember where the bites had been made. I would have to settle for recreating the painful wounds I had received. They would save his life, after all. I knelt down beside the bed, and leaned over his unconscious body.

Then, I whispered slowly into his ear. "Be reborn, my son…I am so sorry." And, gripping the wrought-iron bed post, I bit into the pulsing artery at his neck.

I had never tasted human blood, living as I did off the blood of animals. This was like satisfying the most intense unknown craving. His warm blood rushed over my lips and into my body. It tasted so good! In a separate part of my mind, I realized that he _would_ die. I knew it, and I couldn't stop. For seconds that felt like hours, I battled the starved animal within. I wanted to continue so badly. It was so satisfying! I wanted, no, needed, more. But if I killed him, I would have broken my promise. My promise to Stanley, my promise to Elizabeth, and most of all, my promise to myself. As the venom from the bites entered his system, the boy convulsed and uttered an agonized moan. I was hurting him, and in the briefest moment of distraction, I overcame the animal and pulled away. I didn't imagine it would be this way, but as I pulled away from the boy, I felt actual physical pain. It hurt so badly to stop. I wanted more! But I knew, deep down, I couldn't have it.

I clutched the bed post until it broke from the frame, and turned to black dust in my hand. Gripping the side of the mattress, I bit into my hand to restrain myself, agonized, shallow gasps escaping my lips. For the longest time, I knelt there, hunched over myself, eyes closed, trying to forget the taste of his blood.

After a long time, I began to regain control. I stood up slowly, and left his bedside to sit quietly on the sofa, my head clutched in my hands. I had done it. I glanced over and the boy wasn't moving. For a moment, I feared I had made some grave mistake and killed him. Then suddenly, his whole body twitched and began to writhe on the bed. I was grateful that he made no sound, which might call the attention of a neighbor.

I knew, from my transformation, it would take at least half a day, if not more. I had been attacked one night, and woke up at noon a while later. Whether it was the next day or ten days later, I do not know. But I had time. I locked the doors and closed all but one of the windows, and then escaped back to the hospital to help for twelve more hours.

I returned home the next morning and found him in the same state as before, though with a bit less movement. I waited. I sat there for hours, unmoving, worrying. A full day and a half passed, and I didn't move. How long would this take? I prayed he wouldn't die, for Elizabeth's sake. At nine o clock, two days later, the moon rising above the Chicago skyline, I noticed a change. His heart, which had been pounding rapidly for the last two days, changed.

It sped up. It raced so quickly that the individual beats were nearly indistinguishable, at least to human ears. And, impossibly, it got even faster. His heart was a single whirring noise. It continued on like this until a single note was struck on the large grandfather clock. Almost in perfect timing with the clock, Elizabeth's son's body convulsed once, his back arching, and then stopped. At the same moment, his heartbeat stuttered twice, and then there was silence. The heartbeat was gone.

I walked cautiously over to the bed, and waited. Nothing. I reached out slowly, and as my fingers touched his arm, the boy's whole body reacted. He flipped out of the bed with my incredible speed, and hunched for a moment in the corner before he straightened up in recognition.

"Doctor Cullen?" he said, confused. He was now like me, inhumanly handsome, his voice ringing more clearly than any person.

"Yes," I replied. "Welcome, Edward."

**Oh, I know, I taunt you! But I like the dramatic exits =D. So, how'd you like the story? Let me know in a review; if you do, you get Edward. Actually, I'm Team Jacob, but whatever. Perfect boys will be perfect boys. By the way, I don't know the year when Carlisle was actually changed so I estimated, based on the chronology in the book, that it was around 1667. Review please!!**


	2. For Me

**Hey everyone! Here is another scene I wrote, in which Rosalie comes across a dying Emmett while she is hunting, and brings him home to save him. I wrote this a while ago, but wanted to post it. It's pretty short, but still fun. R&R! Hope you like it! By the way, PLEASE fill out my poll on which one-shot I should write next. I need ideas and inspiration! You can also suggest a future scene (something that happened after Breaking Dawn) or a "What-if?" scene (e.g. What if this had happened instead of that? What would the outcome be?). Give me ideas please!!!**

**~ Kat ~**

**For Me**

I drifted silently through the trees, following only my nose and my ears. I could hear for miles; the whisper of the leaves, the trickle of the streams, chirping of birds. I listened far into the forest until I heard the quiet munching of grass in herbivore teeth. It was accompanied by the soft squelch of delicate hooves in the muddy ground, and the appetizing, wet sound of heartbeats.

I continued to walk towards the sound of the deer, going quietly and quickly. Still silent, I approached the small meadow. Without a break in my stride, I leapt lithely towards the deer, landing on the largest buck. He was dead in seconds as I landed on his spine, cracking it in two.

The other deer reacted instantly, running terrified in every direction to get away from the silent predator. Within seconds, they were all gone, but not before I had taken down a doe. I made sure she had no baby with her. I was a carnivore, but I wasn't cruel. I started with the buck, sinking my teeth cleanly into his thick neck. It was like biting into pudding, with no resistance whatsoever. The warm blood gushed into my mouth, and I drank until he was empty. I was far from full. I did the same to the doe, and eventually felt satisfied. I was ready to head home. My hunting trip was over.

I left the lovely meadow and began the run home. I stretched out my legs, running as fast as I could, the wind whipping my golden hair out behind me. If I was given the option of humanity over vampirism, I would have chosen it without a second thought. Probably without even a first thought. But, stuck as I was in this way, I did occasionally recognize the benefits. The incredible speed was one of them, and I enjoyed it as best I could.

Within minutes, I came to a large field. The bright green grass waved and whispered in the moist spring air. I stepped out into the field and smiled as the sun alighted upon my body and set my skin shimmering like diamonds. Exhilarated by the running and the sun, I leapt twenty feet into the air, executing a perfect flip, and landing, with a small crunch of grass, on the balls of my feet.

The birds chirped quietly in the trees all around and the breeze whispered in the air, but those were the only sounds.

Suddenly, in the trees to the west of me, a huge crash sounded. I jumped back twelve feet into the cover of the trees, and tensed my entire body. Something let out a huge roar, and then a man limped out of the forest, panting and clutching his leg. He was young enough he could even be called a boy, though much bigger and brawnier. Something about his face, even twisted in pain, was soft, playful, and young. Then, as the boy limped away, the animal, an enormous grizzly bear, charged out of the forest from behind.

It stopped at the edge of the field and stared at the boy, baring its six-inch razor teeth. In the boy's human speed, the whole scene felt as though it was playing out in slow motion before my eyes, but I couldn't move. In a last, futile attempt to get away, the boy turned. But before he could run, he caught sight of me. His deep brown eyes widened as he stared, marveling at my inhuman beauty, and his mouth spread into a large, genuine smile.

His short, gently curling hair fell in his eyes, and dimples appeared on his cheeks as he stared. If my heart could move, it would have skipped a beat. The boy, standing there across the field from me, was almost an exact image of Vera's little Henry.

Vera. Once my best friend, until I had been "killed". At least that's what the humans thought. I had had everything. But when she gave birth to little Henry, and I saw the baby boy, full of curls, dimples, and smiles, so perfect and unattainable, I'd felt jealousy for the first time in my life.

And here stood this boy, smiling in his impending doom, looking just like little Henry. I couldn't let him die!

As the boy marveled, he hadn't noticed that the bear was now approaching from behind. I was frozen in shock. Try as I might, I couldn't move my body. The bear blundered across the space between them and leapt into the air, tackling the boy, with claws pushing him down and jaws locking across his torso.

The boy cried out in agony. It was more of a roar even, which soon cut off with a gurgle. His cry spurred my body into action and I leapt forward, sprinting so fast across the field I was naught but a blur. I launched myself onto the bear's head, and punched down, cracking its skull.

The bear turned from the mangled corpse of the boy, and howled in anguish. It spun in circles, trying to get me off its back, but I quickly grabbed his head, and snapped the neck. It broke swiftly, and the bear collapsed, dead. I leapt of and dashed over to the boy. He lay, broken and unmoving, in the crushed, blood-red grass. I knelt beside him, and lay my head on his chest. I could just make out the tiniest thud-thud of his heart, and I knew he didn't have much time left.

I tore his shirt down the middle, and wrapped strips around his broken, bleeding leg and across his torn back.

Suddenly, a whisper escaped his lips. I tried to sit up with a groan and he looked into my eyes, mouth opening slowly into a tiny "O" as he saw the sun reflecting off my face like thousands of small crystals.

"Are you an angel?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter now," I rushed. "You need help. What's your name?"

"Em…Emmett," he coughed. As he coughed, he spit out blood. Then, his head rolled back and he passed out.

"No. No!" I shouted. "No, no, no….Oh no…" I could still hear the tiniest beat of heart. He was dying, and I had to save him.

There was only one option. I had to change him, like Carlisle had done to me, Edward, and Esme. But I knew I couldn't do it. Even having eaten today, I knew it. I wouldn't be able to stop, and so I would kill him. I had to take Emmett home.

He weighed almost nothing as I hoisted him up in my arms. Strength, another perk of this life. And then, Emmett in my arms, I began sprinting the hundred miles home as fast as I could, all but disappearing with speed.

Usually, the hundred-mile-trip seemed all too short. But, with the intense urgency of a fragile human life, time seemed to torture me, lagging and taunting. It seemed I couldn't run fast enough. No matter how I tried, my fastest wasn't good enough. In my arms, I felt Emmett's feeble pulse. I sprinted, working to fit ten of my extended strides into each of his heartbeats, and focused on that to pass the time.

I sped through the trees, extending as far as I could. After what felt like ages, I saw the river ahead. Only two miles to go. With renewed vigor, I put out more speed than I thought I could have possessed. I didn't even stop as I sped through the open door of our secluded house, along the edges of a thick, evergreen forest.

"Carlisle! Carlisle!" I prayed he was home.

"Rosalie? What's wrong?"

"Oh, Carlisle, thank god! He's dying. A bear attacked him. I can't do it, Carlisle, I can't. Please," I begged. "Save him." Indecision flashed across his face. "Please," I said fervently. "For me."

"Come," he said, and I dashed after him to the kitchen. "Place him on the floor. I need morphine. I'm not sure it will work, but it may ease the pain of the venom." Invisible, he sped up the stairs and came down with a syringe, which he quickly stuck into Emmett. I could hear his heart faltering.

"Carlisle! He's dying! Do it now! We can't wait for the morphine to spread."

"Rosalie, step away. The blood..." He didn't have to say more. I didn't want to risk hurting Emmett if I couldn't control myself. I stepped out behind the doorway. Edward stood there, and held my shoulder. I met his eyes. _Thank you_, I thought. I knew he heard me.

Slowly, Carlisle leaned down, and then, in a swift movement, bit at Emmett's neck.

Emmett's broken body convulsed in pain, and I felt a stabbing at my own heart. Whispers of screams escaped his lips, all he could manage in his mangled state.

Carlisle stood up and cleaned his mouth with a towel from the sink. "I'm sorry, Rosalie. I know it's hard, but we can only wait now."

And so we waited.

**Thanks all for reading! Hope you liked! REVIEW to let me know what you thought, what needs changing, and what other stories (one-shots or long stories) you want me to write! Needing ideas here! Please review!!!**


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